2011

Turkey  Tunisia  Algeria  Iran  Transnistria

What a difference being in the Sahara Desert makes.  We arrived in Ghardaïa last night after a smooth and surprisingly quiet flight on a twin-prop Air Algérie ATR-72, and as soon as we stepped off the plane, we could feel the difference in the air - much warmer than Algiers even though it was 8:15 pm, with none of the humidity we had experienced in Algiers.

Our driver was nowhere to be seen when we arrived, which caused considerable consternation to the airport official who, we gathered, was not able to go home until all foreigners had left the airport precinct.  Foreigners must be fairly rare on flights to Ghardaïa - we had to fill in a departure card in Algiers and an arrival card in Ghardaïa, even though it was just a domestic flight, and we were subjected to special questioning at both ends of the trip.

A few phone calls ensued, and eventually our driver and his friend arrived, to the irritated relief of the airport official.  The driver claimed that there had been traffic congestion, which seemed a little disingenuous given that we hardly saw another car on the deserted evening roads of the Sahara Desert.  Anyway, we headed off to our traditional guesthouse accommodation in Beni Isguen, which is one of the five hilltop villages that comprise the oasis of Ghardaïa.

As we drove through the dark town of Beni Isguen, it was clear we had entered another world, one that was much more conservative and traditional than anywhere we had experienced hitherto on this trip.

Ghardaïa is the name that is used collectively for the five towns that comprise a large,10 kilometre long oasis in the valley of the (almost always dry) M’Zab River in central Algeria.  Each of the five towns is built on a hill, topped with a slim minaret, and surrounded by pastel yellow, orange, pink or tan coloured box-like buildings and a very complex three-dimensional labyrinth of very narrow, winding stone streets.

The M’Zab Valley is home to the Mozabites, a breakaway Islamic sect of Berber people that moved to this harsh arid landscape during the 11th century to escape persecution from rival Islamic sects and thus retain its religious and cultural traditions. The Mozabites were fairly confident that no other group would want to invade such a barren landscape, and since occupying the M’Zab Valley, they have fiercely protected their conservative culture and religion, seen outwardly and most obviously by the ghost-like white robes worn by many of the married women that hide all the body and face except for a single eye.

We began the day auspiciously, with a beautiful breakfast of fresh local food under the date palms, and even more significantly, by Tim shaving for the first time on this trip.  Maybe he didn’t want to look like a local Berber, or his father, or maybe he was afraid that he would develop a tan line under the fierce Saharan sunshine, but his strategy seems to have worked - local people have suddenly stopped going up him and starting a conversation in Arabic.

Our morning was spent in the largest of the five towns, Ghardaïa itself.  We began our walk in the cobble-stoned market square, which was everything one might expect of a Saharan oasis - moorish architecture, the arched facades often decorated by hanging carpets, little stalls selling everything imaginable from fruit to peanuts to second-hand metalware and clothes, and a melée of people from diverse backgrounds dressed in an equally diverse range of bright robes, dresses, pantaloons and hats.

After spending some time appreciating the life and colour of the market, we began exploring the old town, entering the maze of laneways and heading up to the mosque at the summit of the knoll, and then down the other side to the dry bed of the River M’Zab.  I would love to share more photos than I am able of this remarkable town that seems stuck in a centuries-old time warp, like something from Tales of the Arabian Nights, but the local people (especially the Berbers) are very suspicious of having their photos taken, and thus the range of images I have is somewhat limited.  Nonetheless, I hope you can get some appreciation of this very special place from the few images I have included here.

We crossed the dry bed of the M’Zab River, and headed up another hill to the town’s huge cemetery.  Each grave is marked not by name, but by a stone at the head and foot (and in the case of pregnant women, an extra stone in the middle) and a distinctive piece of ceramic pottery.  The hill of the cemetery gave us a lovely perspective across the M’Zab’s river bed towards the town of Ghardaïa, but by this time the heat was starting to take its toll and it was time to head back into town for a refreshing cool drink in a little cafe that seems to have taken over an entire laneway in the old part of town.

Thus revitalised, we headed back though the market square, along a crowded and bustling covered laneway filled with fruit sellers selling colourful local produce, through a few more narrow alleyways, before taking the car back to our guesthouse, pausing twice - once in another of Ghardaïa’s five towns (Melika) to enjoy the spectacular view over the whole oasis, and again at a dam and well in Beni Isguen to learn a little about the system of irrigation that operates through Ghardaïa.

We returned to the guesthouse at about 1 pm, and after a lovely lunch of local produce under the shade of the date palms, we adopted the local practice of having a siesta through the heat of the afternoon until we set off again at 5 pm.

Our destination in the late afternoon was the western end of the Ghardaïa oasis, where a large “palmerie” (date palm grove) was being irrigated by an ingenious centuries-old system developed by the Mozabites as a response to the area’s aridity. During winter when the rains fall, rainwater is stored in deep wells and then dispersed though an intricate system of underground channels and overland canals that divide the flow evenly and fairly among separate palm gardens.  During summer months, the canals are dry and become access paths to the houses in the palmerie.  During winter, when the canals are flowing, the houses are abandoned.  We even managed to enter some of the tunnels, carved into the hard bedrock, where the temperature was a refreshing 10 degrees or so less than outside.

Although the light was fading rapidly in the late afternoon, we took a drive through Ghardaïa’s new and extensive industrial zone, stopping to look at some very impressive new houses that were inspired by the town’s traditional architecture, before walking back to the guesthouse along some more irrigation channels.  We reached the hotel at about 8:30 pm, just in time for our 8:45 pm dinner - yet another feast of fresh local produce.

Day 13 - Ghardaïa, Algeria

Saturday

25 June 2011

Today’s Bonus Images